


Give & Take Ch.21

by kinfic2



Category: Queer as Folk (US)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-13
Updated: 2017-05-13
Packaged: 2018-10-31 02:34:20
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,811
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10889871
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kinfic2/pseuds/kinfic2
Summary: Free your mind and the rest will follow





	Give & Take Ch.21

**Author's Note:**

> I am not a psychologist or psychiatrist and do not have a medical degree.

                                                                                   Ch. 21 (The Warren Alpert Chronicles P.10)

  **Destiny is what we do with fate, how we play the hand we’re dealt. Part of each person’s fate includes a personal destiny. But whether that destiny is fulfilled or not depends in part on the person and whether he or she is willing to accept responsibility for and courageously pursue that destiny. **   Dr.S.Diamond

  
  
      Warren stared out the window behind his desk. When would winter decide Pittsburgh had enough? Seasonal Affective Disorder, aptly described as SAD, always increased this time of year, but thanks to the prolonged dismal shades of gray, this month saw a higher percentage of emergency calls and new patients with the ‘winter blues.’  
  
     ‘Winter grays‘ would be a more appropriate term. The color, in various hues and tones of _bleh_ blanketed the city as far as the eye could see. What happened to the other sixty-three colors in the Crayola box? A little blue sky would be the perfect cure if he could persuade Mother Nature to agree.  
  
      He leaned back in his chair with his feet propped on the windowsill. Mindlessly tapping his pen on the padded arm, his thoughts drifted to the events of the past few days. In private practice, he treated many people on the psychological spectrum and agonized over all of them, some more than others. But none affected him as deeply as Brian Kinney and Justin Taylor and he was at a loss to understand why.  
  
      His own psyche was rooted in the sciences, in the black and white. He disdained the obscure and never ascribed to a theory that had ambiguity as a foundation, particularly the vague premise of fate or destiny. The term ‘soul mates’ made him gag, and he dismissed the phrase ‘meant to be’ as an advertising wunderkind's ticket to the top.  
  
_“I don’t believe in destiny, or the guiding hand of fate._ _I don’t believe in forever, or love as a mystical state._  
_But I believe there’s a ghost of a chance we can find someone to love and make it last.”   ©_ _Peart,Lee,Lifeson_  
  
      In their work-related discussions, Alex had been more open to the possibility that these abstract concepts existed. And now, courtesy of his two newest patients, he might be willing to entertain, albeit reluctantly, an iota of such therapeutic heresy as well. Christ, one night with him turned his brain to fanciful mush.  
  
_Get a grip, idiot!_ He spun his chair around and gave a vigorous shake of his head, determined not to allow ridiculous whimsy to float unchecked. Thankfully, the impeccable timing of a knock on the door brought him back to reality. “Come on in, Laura.”  
  
      Fashionably wrapped in a bright, very bright yellow sweater, she entered with her usual boundless energy and humor. If only he could bottle her upbeat personality as an elixir for unmitigated happiness.  
  
      His office would not be a welcoming sanctuary without her handprint. Her touch was everywhere, from the carefully selected reading material– _Warren, we are not putting psych magazines in the waiting room. You don’t need people diagnosing themselves–_ to the flourishing greenery in his office _–_ _It's been proven plants can be beneficial in lifting a person’s spirits–_ to the tastefully displayed artwork– _It has to be cheerful and uplifting without being shoved in their faces. Patients shouldn't feel like we're hitting them over the head to be happy._  
  
    “Ah, what do I smell?”  
  
    “Your unspoken wish is my eternal command, Sire.” She placed a steaming Starbucks coffee on his desk with a flourish.  
  
      He sipped the hot liquid. “Mmm, I knew there was a reason I keep you around.”  
  
      Her lips twitched as she skimmed through the files on his desk and expertly sorted them into stacks. “I’m glad you added ‘around’ to that statement. We wouldn’t want to give the impression you were off the meat market because you were being corrupted by a woman.”  
  
     “What can I say? I’m an impressive guy. It’s a curse, I tell you! God forbid gay PA should think Warren Alpert was keeping a woman.”  
  
      She chuckled as she headed out with an armful of folders.  
  
     “Laura, do you believe in fate or destiny?”  
  
                                                                                                 * * *  
      Puzzled by the out-of-character question, she stopped with her hand on the door knob. The Warren she knew decried the intangible and defied illusion. One plus one always equaled two, regardless of circumstance. It was a tenet she relied on when life became too complicated _._  
  
      She stifled the impulse to ask what prompted the train of thought and hurriedly searched for an answer. “Um, I honestly don’t know. I mean, there are times when things happen for no logical reason and are contrary to what _should_ be happening. But I don’t know the proper definition or terminology.” She weighed her words. “Whether they could or should be labeled destiny or fate? That’s anyone’s guess, I guess.” She ignored the eye roll at the last sentence. _She_ thought it was clever.  
  
      Grinning at her own witticism, she forged ahead. “I think it’s too easy to dismiss certain occurrences as coincidence simply because there’s no logical reason for them. In my opinion, that’s an excuse for not being able to explain the unexplainable.” She gave a wry smile. “So I guess my answer to your question would be a definite maybe. On that note, should I put the tin hat on and wait for the rays to hit?”  
  
                                                                                                 * * *  
  
       Warren threw her a mock glare. “Is he here yet?”  
  
      “Yep, he’s outside. Do you want me to send him in?”  
  
       He took a huge gulp of coffee. “Please!”  
  
      “You got it, boss!”  
  
      “What television shows are you watching now?” he teased, aware of her extreme passion for old-school programs of any genre.  
  
      “Nothing in particular, just a lot of police shows. The ‘80’s were an amazing time for cops. That reminds me, I really have to get one of those satin _Miami Vice_ jackets.”  
  
      “Laura?”  
  
      “Hmm?”  
  
      “Go get him, Dano!” He laughed at her stunned look. “What? I watch TV too, even _Hawaii Five-O._ ” Slipping into his jacket, he started toward the door.  
  
      “Justin! Great to see you! I’m glad you were able to keep the earlier appointment. Come on in. How are you doing?” He gave him a quick once-over, disturbed by the dark circles under his eyes and general air of fatigue.  
  
      “Hanging in there. I don’t have much choice.”  
  
       He gripped his shoulders. “Justin, you always have a choice.”  
  
      “Do I?”  
  
      “Yes, you do.” He motioned to the chair next to his desk. “Please, sit down. Are you still at Daphne’s?”  
  
      “Yeah. Two nights of this are nothing to her.”  
  
      “What about sleep?”  
  
      “The first night we stayed up talking and the second night, I didn’t fall asleep until morning. I couldn't stop thinking about what happened.”  
  
      “Justin, I want to suggest something, and if you're truly uncomfortable with it, tell me, okay?”  
  
      “Yeah, sure.”  
  
      “I’ve given this some thought, and I think you should move back into the loft.” He tried to gauge a response as Justin tugged on a fingernail and strode around the office. But this wasn’t his usual aimless rambling. His stride seemed more methodical, as if each step was burdened with the weight of decision.  
  
      “Can I ask why?”  
  
      “Let me ask you a couple of questions first, because your answers will determine mine. What was your immediate reaction to my suggestion?”  
  
      “I, I guess I was kind of surprised and then a little nervous. I don’t know how to describe it. I felt like I’d be going back to the scene of the crime or something. I know that sounds really fucked up.” He gave an embarrassed laugh.  
  
   _“I’ve been changed, yes really changed._ _In these past few days when I’ve seen myself,_ _I seem like someone else.”_   _©Weber/Rice_  
  
     “Actually, you explained it quite well. You were traumatized by what happened and you were very hurt, not physically, but emotionally. On a subconscious level, you’re seeing yourself as a victim of a crime at the loft, only without the yellow police tape. It’s not uncommon to view the episode through a filtered lens. Does that make sense?”  
  
      “Yeah, I suppose so.”  
  
      “Okay, here’s the second question. Do you think you’re in any physical danger from Brian?”  
  
       Justin stopped midstep and stared. “What? No! We’ve had our share of arguments and what he did last time hurt, really hurt, but physical stuff? Warren, you don’t know him. There’s no way in hell that— Everything he went through, his childhood and stuff...” His voice cracked. “That's another demon he fights. One of his biggest fears is that he’ll never be a good father to Gus.”  
  
      “I just wanted to be sure. Thankfully, that’s one hurdle we don’t have to cross. You haven’t spoken to him yet?”  
  
     “No. Part of me wanted him to call but another part was glad he didn’t. I wouldn’t have known what to say.”  
  
     “The reason I made the suggestion is because the longer the two of you aren't talking or connecting, the more difficult it will be to get back what you had. In these situations, time is not on your side. It becomes too easy to let the days go by without addressing the problem. There’s one excuse after another, real or imagined, and before you know it, it’s over.”  
  
       He was fascinated by the myriad of emotions so blatantly displayed on the troubled face—fear, uncertainty, hope, determination. Brian Kinney had definitely met his match. But did he have the the strength to face the challenge?.  
  
      “Both of you have to talk. I’m not going to sugarcoat what you're up against. From what you’ve told me about your relationship and Brian himself, it’s quite possible you may not be able to work things out. There are very complicated issues involved.” He paused, once again having to walk the fine line between public and privileged information. “However, that’s a chance I think you’re going to have to take. Otherwise, the vicious cycle will continue and you'll wind up hating each other. I'm pretty sure you want that to happen.”  
  
       Although confident that his proposed course of action was the only choice for the two men, the large share of responsibility for the consequences of his suggestion rested squarely on his shoulders. He had to be absolutely certain Justin understood the risk involved. There was a real possibility the talk could be their last, depending on whether or not he had been able to get through to Brian so he could understand himself more clearly and as a result, understand his relationship with Justin more honestly.  
  
                                                                                               * * *  
       Digesting every word, Justin silently agreed. He and Brian had reached the point of no return. Things couldn’t go back to the way they were. He grimaced at having the conversation, at the sheer impossibility of it. But what scared him most was the outcome.  
  
**“If you try and run away from it, if you are scared to go to the brink, you are lost.”** _Dulles_  
  
      “No, that’s not what I want.”  
  
      “I didn’t think so. You know, there are many ways to save a relationship. Some are better than others, some require more work than others. However, you should never sacrifice yourself to make it happen. The price you pay should never be who you are _inside._ I’d wager an educated guess that you and Brian wouldn’t even be together today if it weren’t for the bashing and that’s not even taking the age difference into consideration.”  
  
       He was silent for a long time as he mulled over Warren’s words. When he spoke, there was no self-pity, only sadness and a trace of sarcasm. “Well, it’s nice to know something good came out of it. One of my mother’s favorite sayings used to be some shit about turning lemons into lemonade. I guess I made my lemonade.”  
  
      “I’m going to assume your time with him hasn’t been easy, even before the bashing?”  
  
      “Every day is like a roller coaster ride. That’s the best way I can describe it.”  
  
      “I’m not surprised.” Warren opened a drawer and thumbed through various files. “Ah, here it is.” He slid a sheet of paper across the desk. “Take a look at this.”

                                              **Fate determines who enters our lives, but our actions and reactions determine who stay.**

 

 

       His face pale as milk, Justin's hands trembled as he placed the paper on the desk. “I, uh...I don’t know what to say. It’s Brian, every last fucking word!” A gut feeling in the pit of his stomach told him something was wrong, and a furtive glance at Warren confirmed he wasn't going to like the explanation. “What does it mean?”  
  
                                                                                                 * * *  
       Warren wanted to give him the reassurance of ‘happily ever after’ but he couldn’t. The odds weren't in his favor. No matter how strong or determined, he'd be fighting an uphill battle, even if the narcissism and emotional masochism didn't wear him down. He answered truthfully. “It means even if you are able to work things out and decide to stay with him, it’s going to be very difficult. As you can see,” he pointed to the paper, “it’s quite a laundry list of neuroses. Granted, they’re not present in every personality disorder but considering you were able to identify Brian so accurately from those generalities, it's pretty much a given that there are even deeper problems.”  
  
**“Ye cannot swerve me. The path to my fixed purpose is laid with iron rails, whereon my soul is grooved to run. He tasks me and I shall have him!"** H.Melville  
  
      “It’s not fair, you know,” Justin murmured. “When I was bashed, I lost a part of my life. There's a hole in my head with nothing in it because I can't remember. I used to think that was the worst thing in the world that could happen to me. Now I'm not so sure. Did I tell you what I said to Daphne after my first night with him?”  
  
       He shook his head. There was still so much about this young man that he didn’t know.  
  
       Eyes flashed like blue beacons into his soul. “’I just saw the face of God. His name is Brian Kinney.’ Corny, huh? But that’s how I felt.”  
  
       A flush crept over his face, as if what he was about to say was too personal. “There was one time at the beginning, right after we’d had sex. He was still inside me and his head was on my shoulder. I think he thought I’d fallen asleep. Anyway, he said very quietly, ‘You’re fucking perfect. I can almost forget when I’m with you.’ Godammit Warren! I never expected much from him. Wanted a lot, wanted things I know now he wasn't capable of giving, not because he wouldn’t, but because he couldn't. Yet, I always hoped—”  
  
      “That you could change him?”  
  
      “Something like that,” he muttered.  
  
      “It’s okay, Justin. You’re not the first and you won’t be the last. It’s healthy to hope and dream. Life would be pretty dull otherwise. The important thing is not to let it cloud your judgment and prevent you from making the necessary decisions to better your life. But sometimes things are what they are and people are who they are, no matter how hard you try to change the situation or the person. A relationship isn’t just two people. There’s a third entity—the relationship itself, sort of ‘one plus one equals three.’ People can do everything right, make no mistakes and the equation stays at ‘one plus one equals two.’”  
  
       He steepled his fingers under his chin and peered over the top. “Did you learn about symbiosis in school?”  
  
      “Bio wasn’t exactly a favorite subject of mine. From what I remember, it’s two organisms working together and getting what they need from each other?”  
  
      “That’s a pretty good definition. In my profession, it can also be applied to human relationships. We classify them according to the harm-help consequences. I’m not going to turn this into a school lecture by delving into the boring psycho drabble. Let’s just say there are healthy relationships, where there’s an inevitable and natural symbiosis between two people, and there are unhealthy ones, where the give and take, the need and want is so skewed that it harms one or both parties. It’s like a parasitic attachment.”  
  
       Even though the heartbreaking look tore at his heart, he had to be honest. “Both of you subconsciously formed this new symbiotic relationship as a result of the bashing, confusing your roles and falling into a pattern heavily laden with an attachment hunger of want and need. In these new roles, you’re feeding off each other emotionally, and if the drain continues, there’ll be nothing left. You and Brian aren’t the same people anymore. It was inevitable a trauma so severe would change both of you, even in ways you wouldn’t recognize. Your original ‘imbalanced balance’ in the beginning shifted, affecting what each of you wanted, needed and expected from yourself and each other. Are you following so far?”  
  
      “Yeah, I think so.”  
  
       The glint of strength he spotted gave him hope that despite the long road, his patient would be okay. “Do you know the official definition of a habit?”  
  
        Justin smiled. “No, but I have a feeling I will.”  
  
      “According to Webster, it’s an acquired behavior pattern regularly followed until it becomes almost involuntary. Certain habits can be destructive. You and Brian have to break the habit and stop being each other’s emotional drug. You have to give each other up emotionally in order to get each other back. It’s the only way for you to save yourself, for Brian to save himself and for both of you to save the relationship.”  
  
                                                                                                * * *  
  
       He had no doubt Warren was right. He had to take control and accept that sometimes things twisted and turned unpredictably. If you ended up in a different place from where you expected, that wasn’t failure. That was life.  
  
      “Maybe it’s time for you and him to see each other as equals, to accept each other’s faults and insecurities and appreciate each other's hopes and dreams,” Warren said. He leaned forward. “Can you accept him for who he is, _as_ he is, knowing that even if he were able to deal with his demons, he’d still be the same person? You can’t force him to open up and share his feelings. You’ll push him away. All you can do is tell him how it makes you feel when he shuts down.  
  
      “As far as being more demonstrative, I get the impression from what you’ve told me, he’ll never be a romance kind of guy. If you’re going to hold him to that standard, you might as well give up now and save yourself a lot of grief. During one of our sessions, you mentioned his friend Michael had this starry-eyed vision of him. In your own way, you have a fantasy image as well. Are you willing to let it go and accept him for himself? Can you let go of your romanticized ‘love of a lifetime’ ideal?”

                               _"I've been a fool to allow dreams to become great expectations."_ _©Andersson/Ulvaeus_  
  
      “I don’t—” He started to protest but lowered his eyes when Warren’s raised eyebrow called him out. He reflected on what he and Brian had been doing to each other since the bashing, the pushing and pulling, the subtle games. When he thought about the good times, almost all of them were in bed. Well, not necessarily in _bed,_ but they all involved fucking. They were perfect together in so many ways and yet—  
  
      “Justin?”  
  
      “Hmm? Oh, yeah, sorry! I was thinking about what you said.”  
  
      “Any questions?”  
  
      “No, I don’t think so. Not now, anyway. So you really think I should go back to the loft and talk with him?”  
  
      “Do _you_ think you should?”  
  
      “I owe it to myself and to him to at least try and—” Although the inescapable truth that he could lose everything flooded him with fear, he recovered and resolutely continued. “If it doesn’t work, I can say I gave it my best shot. I can’t stop loving him because words on a piece of paper describe him as an almost lost cause.”  
  
       The gust of air from his forceful exhale scattered the blond strands on his forehead. “The way I see it, Brian deserves to be loved like anyone else.” He stood and squared his shoulders. “If I can learn how to give it to him without hurting myself, then that’s what I’m going to do.” He added impishly, “Even if he is a prick.”

 _“I have a love and it’s all that I need. Right or wrong and he needs me, too._  
                                   _”I love him. I'm his and everything he is, I am, too._     _©Bernstein/Sondheim_  
  
       Warren rose and walked around the desk. “It’ll be all right. You’ll be all right, regardless how things turn out. You’re a lot stronger than you realize.”  
  
      “I hope so. I really do.”  
  
      “Let me know how it goes. You have my number if you need to reach me before your next appointment.”  
  
      “Yeah, I will and I do. Thanks a lot, Warren. Keep your fingers crossed for me.”  
  
                                                                                             * * *  
  
      “You’ll need all the luck you can get,” Warren whispered as he shut the door. He checked the clock. With fifteen minutes until his next patient, he pressed speed dial on his cell phone and stretched out on the sofa. “Hello, Rose. This is Dr. Alpert. Is he in?”  
  
      “Perfect timing, Dr. Alpert. His patient just left. Hold on please.”  
  
       The familiar voice filtered through the phone. “To what do I owe the pleasure of a call in the middle of the day?”  
  
      “Are you free this evening so I can collect one of my dinners?”  
  
      “Hmm, that bad a day?” Alex asked.  
  
      “How about a bad few days?”  
  
      “As luck would have it, I am free this evening, so dinner it is. Any place special?”  
  
      “Alfredo’s?”  
  
      “Sounds good. Meet you there around seven? That should be enough time for you to vent properly and for me to relieve your tension.”  
  
      “The kind of relief I had in mind would be a little awkward in a restaurant, Alex.”  
  
      “I have to start somewhere. My relaxation technique takes a long time. You know how thorough I am.”  
  
      “I most certainly do. It’s exactly what I need.”  
  
      “Great! I’ll see you later. Make sure you bring a huge appetite.”  
  
      “Don’t I always? I’ll be there at seven.”  
  
      “See you then.” After he buzzed Laura to send in the next patient, his thoughts wandered to Justin and the herculean task he faced. This was one time he honestly had no idea what the outcome would be.

 

CONTINUED HERE: <http://archiveofourown.org/works/11235213>

 

 

                                                             

 


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